


TLC

by Mellorine



Series: Gestalt [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Tsundere Prowl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellorine/pseuds/Mellorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tender loving care, Prowl-style, is rarely tender, hardly loving, and barely qualifies as care. But still, it's something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TLC

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SiderealV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiderealV/gifts).



Something was wrong. Every morning Scavenger showed up at Prowl’s office at 0900 hours on the dot, eager to take into his servos his self-appointed job of ~~bouncer~~ ~~secretar~~ y assistant.

So two days going by with no sign of the Constructicon was strange, and, frankly, a little bit offensive. Scavenger _knew_ Prowl liked things to be just so, so if he had taken on this job he could at least have the decency to keep doing it.

_Rude_.

Not to mention, without Scavenger’s presence mechs somehow thought that gave them the right to barge right into his office and start ranting at him about this, that and the other thing. It was enough to put a crack or two in what had started the day as a perfectly serviceable, unblemished office desk.

Prowl found himself checking his chronometer every five breems. As soon as the day ended, he was going to march right over to the Constructicons’ barracks and find out just what was so important that Scavenger felt he could blow Prowl off without a word. He’d leave earlier than that, but he didn’t want to give the mech the satisfaction.

It’s not as if it truly bothered him; he just wanted to chew Scavenger out for being so thoughtless.

0700 rolled around, and Prowl gathered up his things and took a leisurely drive over to the Constructicons’ place. He knocked lightly at the door. He would have used the buzzer but it was broken due to circumstances the Constructicons refused to talk about. He _could_ have used the gestalt bond, or even the sparkbond, but…no. Just no.

The seconds ticked by, and no answer. Impatient, Prowl cracked open his end of the bond the tiniest bit and was greeted by a faint presence. Scavenger was definitely in. Who knew where the others were. Knowing them, probably out drinking.

Cautiously, Prowl opened the door, thankful just this once for being given automatic access to their barracks. Silence greeted him and he padded over to the closed door of Scavenger’s room.

He _hated_ going in there. Messy didn’t even begin to describe it. Scavenger might proudly claim that everything was in its place and he knew exactly where all his treasures were, but the fact remained that his room was piled high with more junk than Prowl had ever seen in his entire function.

He steeled himself and entered. The room was lit only by the glow of a small collection of tiny alien lamps filled with some kind of odd liquid, and Prowl could barely pick out the form of Scavenger lying on the berth.

“Wake up.” Getting caught up in some sort of escapade with the rest of the Constructicons Prowl could (begrudgingly) understand, but if Scavenger had been sleeping all day long, they were going to have words.

“ _Mmffff_ ,” came the reply.

Prowl rubbed his chevron. This was stupid. He didn’t know why he’d even decided to come here, other than some sort of misplaced sense of what was certainly not _worry_. “What’s wrong with you? Get up.”

Scavenger’s shovel tail thumped on the berth. “Hurts,” he mumbled.

Hurts? “What hurts?” Of course he’d hurt, lying around in bed all day like his axles were broken.

“ _Hurts_ ,” Scavenger insisted, and Prowl sighed.

The Constructicon was obviously going to be of no help explaining what his problem was, and even less help doing anything else if he remained like this. Prowl stumbled his way out of the maze that was Scavenger’s room and headed for the kitchen. Scavenger should at least get some energon in him; low energy would do him no favors.

Why he was going out of his way to help Scavenger was entirely beyond his comprehension. It wasn’t as if his help around the office was invaluable. Shaking his helm, Prowl filled a cube with standard mid-grade and brought it back to the other mech.

“Drink this.” There wasn’t anywhere to set the cube amid the clutter, so Prowl stood awkwardly holding the cube out.

Scavenger’s visor flickered on and, seeing the cube, he smiled. “Thanks, boss,” he said, taking the cube.

“Drink it slowly,” Prowl warned. He wasn’t going to go back for another one if Scavenger was clumsy enough to spill it all over the berth.

Scavenger nodded and sipped at the cube while Prowl stood by the side of his berth, feeling supremely awkward.

Well, if he was well enough to sit up and drink his energon, he was probably fine. “If you can’t come in tomorrow, _call_ ,” Prowl said.

He moved to leave but was stopped by a servo on his arm. Turning, he saw Scavenger giving him is best turbopuppy look.

“Don’t go,” Scavenger said.

Primus, Scavenger looked pathetically hopeful. By rights, Prowl should leave him here and go back home. It wasn’t as if he could do anything more to help; Hook was the medic, not him. Scavenger’s small smile twitched in uncertainty and his grip loosened.

Shaking his helm, Prowl sat down on the edge of the berth and brought out a datapad. He could work on this here or in his own quarters, it made no difference to him. And if it saved him from hearing Scavenger whine about it later, then he could count this as a victory.

Scavenger sighed, half-happy and half-pained, and curled around Prowl.

 


End file.
